


I'm in Love with How You Feel (Sixteen Candles)

by pterawaters



Series: Derek's Sweet Sixteen [1]
Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Human, Banter, Comeplay, Frottage, Lingerie, M/M, Ptera's TW Bingo, Sweet Sixteen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-01-20
Updated: 2013-01-20
Packaged: 2017-11-26 03:59:52
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Underage
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,724
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/646325
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/pterawaters/pseuds/pterawaters
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Derek was pretty sure that his family had forgotten his sixteenth birthday, too preoccupied with his older sister's wedding to notice it was supposed to be his day. It's okay, though, because Derek's boyfriend remembered. Boy, did he remember!</p>
            </blockquote>





	I'm in Love with How You Feel (Sixteen Candles)

**Author's Note:**

  * For [sparkysparky](https://archiveofourown.org/users/sparkysparky/gifts).



> This was written for the "Sweet Sixteen" square on my Teen Wolf Bingo [Card](http://pterawaters.livejournal.com/51515.html).

Derek wakes up on the morning of his sixteenth birthday to a loud shriek. It sounds like his older sister Megan, so he figures it's just another wedding disaster. He rolls over to go back to sleep, but his clock says he has to be up in ten minutes anyway, so he groans and drags himself to the shower.

He beats Laura to the shower, which means he actually gets hot water this morning, but it also means he has to listen to her pleas of, "C'mon, Der! You know it takes me forever to dry my hair."

"I could fix that," he calls back before mimicking the sound of hair clippers.

Laura shrieks and calls him a jerk.

On his way out the door, Derek gives his mother a kiss on the cheek, takes the bag of food she's assembled for him, tells Megan her veil doesn't look _that_ bad, and escapes. Gabe's sleek black Camaro sits perfect and sexy in the driveway and Derek doesn't bother resisting the urge to run a finger along it as he walks past.

Stiles' Jeep pulls up and the boy grins out at him. Derek hops into the passenger seat to Stiles' excited cry of, "Happy Birthday!"

"Thanks," Derek replies, leaning over for a quick kiss. Stiles returns the kiss and nips at Derek's nose when he pulls away. Derek laughs. "You know," Derek says as Stiles starts driving again, "I think my family might have forgot."

"Forgot what? Your birthday?"

Derek nods.

"I'm sure they'll remember by tonight." Stiles smirks. "You can come over after practice, right?"

"Sure," Derek agrees. No one mentioned that he had to be home any earlier than normal. He hopes they're planning a surprise party and they'll have to wait in the dark for him to finish making out with his boyfriend.

Stiles' smirk turns into a grin and Derek recognizes it as his up-to-something grin. "Awesome, because my present for you is at my house."

Derek almost asks what it is, but he knows Stiles won't tell him. He'll say it's ruining the surprise. Derek isn't a big fan of surprises, but he knows Stiles loves arranging them, so he doesn't say anything.

Sitting through the school day is hell. Somehow his English teacher, Mrs. Applebaum, got everyone's birth dates from the school records and she insists on making a big deal of _everyone's_ birthday. He almost skips English, except he knows they're having a quiz and if he has to make it up, Coach will be on his ass about his grades. The ensuing brouhaha is just as embarrassing as Derek feared it would be, complete with a plastic crown.

Lacrosse practice drags on for-freaking-ever, but eventually it ends and Derek lets Stiles chase him from the field to the locker rooms. Just inside the building, Derek lets himself get caught, grabbing Stiles by the hips and pulling him in as Stiles pushes Derek against a wall and kisses him soundly. Derek closes his eyes and kisses Stiles back long enough and single-mindedly enough for someone to sneak up next to them without Derek noticing. He does notice when that someone clears his throat.

"Boys..." Stiles gives a tiny shriek (he must have been as into the kiss as Derek had been) and turns around to face Principal Argent. "Do I need to review with you the school's policy on displays of affection?"

"No, Mr. Argent," Stiles says quickly, taking Derek's hand in his and pulling him toward the door. "We're just going."

They gather their things from the locker room, rinsing off quickly and escaping for Stiles' Jeep before the last few stragglers are even in from the field. Derek spends the drive with his hand on Stiles' thigh. Halfway to Stiles' house, Derek asks, "Is it sex? Are you giving me sex for my birthday? Because you know we've been doing it nonstop for awhile now."

Stiles grins and says, "Not exactly."

Derek's heart thuds noticeably in his chest for the rest of the drive, excited and insistent. Derek doesn't know how it's possible, but his heart actually speeds up when Stiles pulls Derek into his bedroom and hands over a white box tied with a black velvet ribbon. Stiles can't even tie his shoes without twisting them into hideous, tangled shapes, so Derek is almost certain that someone else wrapped this for him. Derek doesn't bother to ask what it is, just drops his backpack next to the door and takes the box.

Pulling the ribbon from the box without untying it, Derek grins and throws the long loop of it over Stiles' head, using it to drag him closer for a kiss. Stiles' cheeks are pinker than usual and his skin is flushed at the base of his neck, so Derek is fairly certain that whatever is in the box is a sex thing. He opens it.

Wrapped in several layers of white tissue paper sit a pair of boxer briefs, only they're made of red lace with a black satin trim. Derek swallows at the sight of them, more than a little surprsised. Special condoms or a dirty magazine or even some sort of toy would have all been much more expected than this.

Stiles' eyes are dilated and dark as his gaze flits to Derek's face and then away again. Quietly, he asks, "Do you like them? 'Cause if you don't it's totally cool. I mean, it's not something we've ever–"

Derek shuts Stiles up with a kiss that bowls Stiles over onto the bed. Standing up, Derek sets his present on the bed and starts stripping, tugging off his shirt and dropping his pants so quickly his hard on gets a little stuck in the waistband of his boxers. Like he's never seen Derek naked before (instead of almost every day for the past eight months), Stiles stares, propping himself up on his elbows as he watches Derek finish stripping and then pull on the lingerie.

The lace feels weird, somewhat scratchy and like there's too much of a draft, and they dig into his balls a little, but Derek likes how they feel when he runs his hands over his ass. He looks over at Stiles, whose jeans are definitely tenting up and who still looks struck speechless. "Well?"

Stiles swallows again, sitting up and scooting to the edge of the bed. He reaches forward with one of his bigger-than-Derek's hands and runs it down from Derek's waist along the side of his hip. "Oh, my God."

Derek thinks Stiles sounds like he's about to have a stroke. "Is that a good, 'Oh, my God,' or a bad one?"

"Good!" Stiles draws out the word, his hand tracing the black satin waistband until his fingers reach Derek's treasure trail. His thumb runs up through the hair and then back down, making Derek shiver. He consciously makes his dick twitch against the red lace in the hopes that Stiles will stop teasing and start touching. "Oh, my God. So good! But, Derek?" Stiles pauses, his thumb near Derek's navel and his fingers splayed out toward Derek's hip.

"Yeah?" Derek's hips jerk forward a little at the sight of Stiles' open mouth, his lips shining from where he's been licking them. God, Derek just _wants_ to take what he needs, but he knows going Stiles' speed always works out better in the end.

"I kind of, sort of, bought those thinking _I_ would wear them for _you_." Derek doesn't think he's ever seen Stiles' cheeks this pink, except maybe just after really vigorous sex. 

Looking down at the way the lace strains around his erection and the black trim pulls focus downward, Derek imagines the underwear on Stiles. He groans. Reaching down, Derek grabs at the hem of Stiles' long sleeved shirt as he says, "Well, you can wear them next, okay?"

Stiles nods eagerly and helps Derek take off his shirt. The flush around Stiles' neck goes halfway down his chest and Derek doesn't fight the urge to place one knee on either side of Stiles' hips. He shifts his weight forward and rubs his lace-covered cock against Stiles' chest, which feels so amazing Derek can't help but gasp and want more, more, _more_. He pulls back so he can hunch over Stiles and kiss him silly.

The whine that means Stiles is really turned on escapes from between their lips. As the kiss breaks, Stiles says in a strangled voice, " _Pants_! Oh, my God, why am I still wearing pants?"

"Fuck," Derek says in response, planting one knee and putting all his weight on it, lowering his other foot to the floor so he doesn't fall onto Stiles prematurely. As Stiles struggles with his belt and then his fly, Derek nips at his ear and whispers, "These feel so good. I just want to rub off on you through them, get them all filthy with sweat and come. I even love the way my hair gets stuck in the fabric and tugs. Jesus, Stiles, hurry up!"

Stiles groans and finishes pushing his pants and underwear to the floor, kicking his feet a few times until he's naked and pulls Derek back in against him. "Shit! Oh, fuck, baby," he says as Derek settles in his lap and presses himself against Stiles from cock to forehead. Stiles puts both hands on Derek's ass and Derek gasps a little at how he can feel little pin-pricks of hot, sweaty skin contact through his shorts. When they first started dating, Derek used to be a little weirded out by how hot and sweaty Stiles' hands always were. Now he appreciates the hell out of them. Stiles murmurs against Derek's neck, "God damn, this feels awesome."

"Mm-hmm," Derek agrees, rocking his hips forward to drag his cock against Stiles' hard on and his lower stomach. The pull of the fabric between Stiles' skin and Derek's cock feels excitingly foreign. Derek can tell he's not going to last much longer.

The difference between knowing his orgasm is coming and actually experiencing it when Stiles slips a hand down the back of his shorts and presses two insistent fingers against his asshole is so vast that Derek almost blacks out. He curls against Stiles, panting through it and riding on the burst of endorphins until he can see again. "Fuck."

Stiles makes a noise in his throat, moving both arms around Derek and hugging him for a second before rolling them to the side so Derek's back is on the bed and his ass is half hanging off of it along with his legs. Stiles pushes at Derek's armpits, saying, "Move up, dude! C'mon. Shit."

Laughing at Stiles' urgency, Derek scoots back on the bed until he only has one foot hanging off. Stiles settles between Derek's legs, his hard on pressing heavily against Derek's crotch. Now that there's come all over the shorts, the lace begins to chafe as Stiles ruts against him. Derek doesn't say anything besides, "Yeah, babe," and pulls Stiles down into a kiss.

But then the chafing starts to hurt, so Derek works a hand between them, dips his fingers below the waistband of his shorts, and covers his hand in sticky, drying come. He nudges Stiles' hip with his thigh so he'll pull away (which he does, leaning more heavily on his right arm than the left) and let Derek start jacking him off.

"Der," Stiles gasps, his mouth making motions like he's trying to kiss, but is too far away. Derek closes the gap for a moment, kissing Stiles loosely with lots of tongue, before dropping back down. "Shit, baby," Stiles whispers, letting his forehead fall onto Derek's still shoulder. "Fuck. I'm gonna come all over them."

"Do it," Derek urges his boyfriend. "C'mon. I wanna see."

"Y- Oh, ffff..." Stiles comes, his cock pulsing as Derek strokes him through it. He deliberately aims Stiles' dick down so that most of his come _does_ end up spattering across the red lace. Derek has just enough time to appreciate the contrast in color before Stiles collapses on top of him, boneless.

Humming in contentment, Derek pulls his hand out from between them and wraps his arms around Stiles' back. He plays with the moles on Stiles' skin for a moment, breathing deeply through his nose to fill his brain up with the scent of Stiles and sex. He wishes that they could sleep wrapped around each other every night, forever.

Stiles huffs a few laughs against Derek's collarbone before saying in a wry voice, "Happy Sweet Sixteen, Derek."

"Yep," Derek agrees, lifting his head so he can see the alarm clock next to Stiles' bed. "Shit, I gotta get home."

Stiles squeezes Derek close for a second or two and then hauls himself up to sitting. Derek looks down and sees that he's a wreck. The lace of his shorts is starting to get glued to his skin with come and when he wiggles his hips, his pubic hair tugs painfully in places. Stiles raises an eyebrow at him.

Derek unwraps his arm from around Stiles' waist and reaches down to peel the underwear away from his skin, being extra careful around his dick. "I, uh," he says as he gets them off, smiling at Stiles. "I think these are gonna need a wash before we..."

"Totally," Stiles agrees, catching them out of Derek's hand, balling them up, and tossing them across his room where they land on a pile of clothes. "I'll wash 'em and then wear 'em to school someday soon, cool?"

Feeling his cheeks heat up at the thought of never quite knowing if Stiles is wearing his normal boxers or the lace shorts they just came all over, Derek nods and grins at Stiles as he goes in for another kiss. "Way cool."

"Alright!" Stiles gets up, his dick still half hard and jutting long in front of him as he stoops down and grabs Derek's shirt, tossing it at his face. They help each other get dressed and then it's past time for Derek to go.

"If they really have forgotten it's my birthday, think I can guilt them into buying me a car?"

Stiles follows Derek downstairs and out to the Jeep, pausing to lock the front door of the house. "Ooh, maybe you can wrangle the Camaro from your brother. Now _that_ is a car I'd love to have sex in. If I could, I probably would have sex _with_ that car."

"Should I be jealous?" Derek asks as he hops into the passenger seat. Though it would be pretty cool to have his own car, he doesn't really want to give up getting rides from Stiles. It's sort of stupidly the best part of his day.

"So jealous, man," Stiles agrees with a playful wink. "Unless you think we could make a ménage a trios work."

"How would you even go about having sex with a car?" Derek asks. He has a few ideas, but mostly he asks because he loves watching Stiles' brain work and loves hearing the strange things it comes up with.

"Well, if it's got leather seats – or pleather, who am I to judge – you could lube up a seat and kind of hump the crease, right?" Stiles says. "Or if you were really adventurous and limber, you could ride the gear shifter."

And there they are – the strange answers Derek was looking for. It makes him think two things. The first is, _Why would anyone ever do that_ and the other is, _God damn I love this boy_. 

~~**~~

When Derek gets home, the only car in the driveway is his mother's minivan and the house is dark. He lets himself in expecting a surprise party, but there aren't any decorations and no one is hiding behind the couch or just around the corner in the kitchen. There is a note on the kitchen island.

_Derek, there's a few microwave meals in the freezer. Do your homework. We'll be back when Megan's flowers are fixed. Love, Mom_

Derek knows he should be angry or upset that his family forgot his sixteenth birthday, but he's just so happy after spending the afternoon with Stiles that all he can think is, _Sweet! I'm totally getting a car out of this!_


End file.
